


Wicked Games- a Collection of One Shots

by NotWiselyButWell



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotWiselyButWell/pseuds/NotWiselyButWell
Summary: Spot Conlon had never been the jealous type. But then Rosie came back into his life. First time publisher, long time reader. A collection of Spot Conlon/Original Character one-shots.(This is a long-standing work I had sitting on my laptop for YEARS and I wanted to see how it fared here. I'm fairly certain most of this is from over 6 years ago and it probably reflects that well)
Relationships: Spot Conlon/ Original Female Character





	1. Chapter 1

Spot Conlon was _not_ the jealous type. Since he more often than not got what he wanted without much struggle (except for the odd, unfair fight), he’d never really found himself at a loss for anything, be it material goods of the loyalty of his boys. But tonight, as he watched Kid Blink whirl her across the floor, a stupid-looking grin on his face, he was greener than the grass in Prospect Park. She was radiant; her gown a deep shade of emerald, reflecting the hints of green in her big hazel eyes. Though he couldn’t hear over the loud music and rowdy boys, he could see her laugh and imagined the sound of her musical giggle as though it was right in his ear.

Oh, how he _loathed_ Kid Blink in that moment. He clutched the glass in his hand so tightly it seemed as though it might shatter into a thousand pieces. He watched the dancing pair like a hawk watches its prey; they strolled off the dance floor and towards the poker table at which he sat, arm in arm. He watched her every move closely, searching for clues to her intentions. Everythng about her was winsome and lovely- the way her arm was looped through his, the way she moved a hair from his one good eye with such delicate fingers. Her lips just barely brushed his cheek when she leaned in to speak, and that did it. Spot nearly exploded from his seat, suddenly feeling the need for a smoke. His now-empty chair wobbled as he stalked outside without a word. 

The combination of the cool night air and the tobacco had _just_ begun to work its soothing magic when her giggle floated out towards him and hovered like so much smoke. He groaned, hanging his head for a brief moment. _Perfect._

“Blink, you are quite the dancer! Maybe you should have been up onstage instead of me!” she teased as the strolled out of the theater towards where the King of Brooklyn was smoking. Spot still had not moved from his perch on the railing, and that wasn’t about to change. The hand that held his cigarette trembled ever-so-slightly as he brought it to his lips.

“Oh no, Rose, I could never. You were radiant up there tonight.” _Gag me_. Spot rolled his eyes. She giggled once again, and he felt ready to vomit. He glanced at the couple, out of the corner of his eye, unable to resist analyzing her movements once more. She noticed, and a mischievous glint entered her eyes. “Kid, dear, would you mind leaving me out here with my good friend Spot? I think the cool air will do me some good. You’ll go fetch us some drinks, yes?” He nodded vigorously, left a chaste kiss on her cheek, and left .

“Dontcha think you’re laying it on a little thick there, Sullivan?” Spot asked coolly, smoke billowing from his nose and mouth as he exhaled. His lips turned upward in that infamous smirk. “Poor Blink can’t even think straight.”

Rose considered him for a moment, hands on her hips, lips quirked in a similar half-smile. She smiled and stepped out into the cool night. “Just because you’re Irish does not mean that green is your color, Conlon.” She leaned against the railing next to him, gazing out over the darkened street. She nudged him with her bare shoulder. “He _is_ cute though, isn’t he?” He laughed.

“I ain’t _jealous_ of a one-eyed lummox,” he scoffed, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Nimble fingers plucked it from his grasp before it could reach its destination; Rose took a long drag of her own, conspicuously not looking him in the eye as she did so. Slithering down off his perch while she lazily blew rings of smoke, he had all the grace of a jungle cat, power barely contained in his muscular frame. It was her turn to laugh now, a musical sound.

“Whatever you say, Spotty,” she teased, handing back the cigarette. Spot kept his eyes trained on the glowing orange end, refusing to fall into those hazel eyes like he so often did. “Oh come on, Spot, you know you’re my favorite newsboy.” She placed a hand lithely on his shoulder, fingertips teasing at the skin just above his collar. Her spiced perfume, combined with the very nearness of her and _that dress_ with its tantalizing neckline, made it increasingly difficult for him not to take her in his arms and kiss her in a way that he knew Blink never could. He shivered slightly and finally glanced up at her, blue eyes burning into hazel. The smirk returned with renewed power.

“Does Kid Blink know that?” he asked softly, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. She sighed and leaned into the contact, temporarily forgetting herself. Their lips are just inches from touching when Spot speaks again. “Speaking of things people should know… Does big brother Jack know you still smoke?”

Mentioning her brother was enough to snap her back to reality. She stepped back then, trailing her hand along his forearm before bringing it to rest on his hip. “Shhhhh, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Again, the desire to kiss her flared in his gut. She was toying with him, and he knew it. Rose Mae Sullivan had always been, and always would be, the only woman in all of New York City who could outfox Spot Conlon. He took her hand then, gently, and pressed it to his lips. Her eyes flashed; he could still affect her too, it seemed.

“It was good to see ya again, Sullivan. Be sure to keep your nose clean.” He dropped her hand and stepped around her, sauntering back into the theater with ease. She could outplay him, yes, but he was still the King. And he loved to remind her


	2. On the Docks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another cute moment.

She stretched lazily, delicate fingers splaying skyward as she arched her back and sighed contentedly on the end of the dock. She reminded him of some happy little house cat, her bright hazel eyes reminded crescent-shaped slits as she squinted into the midmorning sun. Snuffing out his cigarette on a nearby post, he stepped up behind her and snaked his arms around her tiny waist in one swift motion. He could feel her heart beating steadily in her chest. “Beautiful day, innit?,” she murmured, lithe hands resting on his coarse ones like fluttery little birds.

“Mmm,” he grunted, placing his chin on her shoulder.”Its not so bad, I guess,” he said quietly, lips pressed to her ear. One breathless laugh bubbled from her, and his lips curved up into that infamous smirk.

“I forgot how impossible it is to impress you, Spot,” she teased, stepping out of his arms and closer to the water’s edge. “Not even the blinding sun could sway you.” A gentle breeze picked up then, swirling her deep blue skirts and slightly mussing her honey-colored hair. She shivered and hugged herself, glancing back at him.

“Well, I see the same sun every day, of course it don’t impress me anymore,” he chuckled, moving next to her to look over the water. “It takes something a little more extraordinary to render me speechless.” Hazel eyes flicked over to him, briefly scanned his face, then returned to the river. The smirk widened into a grin.

“Well, you are _awfully_ quiet around me, Spot,” she teased, turning to face him. The grin vanished. The hand that rested on his gold-tipped cane tightened its grip.

“There isn’t much to say, Rose. You know everything.”

“Oh, I know. Truth be told, I like the quiet. It’s a nice break from the theater.” She finally turned her gaze back to the water, and Spot realized he had been holding his breath.

“Oh? Show business getting to be too much for you?” The smirk returns to his face.

“No, no, not at all. I love dancing for Medda more than anything, it all just gets to be a bit too…” she bit her bottom lip, searching for the right word. “Loud, I guess. Sometimes I just need to get away for a while.”

The thought amused him. “You need to get away from the noisy theater, so you choose to spend time with a bunch of loud newsboys? Am I missing something?”

She turned towards him then, leaning back against the pillar behind her, arms wrapped tighter around her torso. “Well, maybe its not the noise, but the people making it.” This time he turned his whole head to look at her, puzzled. She opened her arms out to either side, as though attempting to embrace him, the docks, and the entire river in front of them. “This is my home. The docks, the newsies…” she trailed off, allowing her arms to fall to her sides. “This is familiar to me. Safe.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, suddenly nervous, as though she’d said too much. “Its nice.”

“You don’t feel safe at Medda’s?” His tone betrayed the sudden grip fear took over him. He’d heard stories of rough stage hands in the past, and the hand on his cane tightened once more. Rose noted this and her eyes widened.

“No! No, no, no, its not like that at all! Jesus, Spot!” she laughed that musical laugh. “I’m saying that I miss you!”

It was suddenly too quiet on the docks, even though the everyday hustle and bustle of the city was no more than twenty feet away. Even though Spot knew that Coyote, his lanky second-in-command, was standing close by with a few others, keeping watch like he always did, he’d never felt more alone with someone in his life.

Spot would never admit how much it scared him. Or how much he enjoyed it.

“I swear, you _always_ jump to the worst case scenario, Spot!” She gently took his free hand in both of hers, stepping closer. Raising his hand to her lips, she pressed a series of gentle kisses to his knuckles. “Big worrywart.”

“King Worrywart, thank you very much,” he corrected her with an easy smile. The hand resting on his cane rose up to cup her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed and she turned her face into his palm. “What am I gonna do with you, kid?” He pulled her close, folding her small frame into his arms. “I miss you too,” he muttered into her hair, gently pressing kisses into her hairline. She returned the gesture, rising onto her toes to reach his forehead, which made the newsboy laugh. A real laugh, gentle and warm, the sound washing over her like rays of light. “Silly girl.”

“They stayed like that, arms locked around each other, foreheads resting against each other, for what felt like ages. All they could hear was their own breath in their lungs and the gentle lapping of the river at the docks.

These were the moments they reveled in, the quiet moments that no one else really saw. Not even Jack saw this side of their relationship; to the newsies, they were resilient and headstrong, butting heads constantly, whether jokingly or not. Of course,they _could_ be affectionate in front of the crowds too, but in much more subtle ways; glances and smiles, hands brushing on occasion. This though; with bodies pressed close together, nearly sharing the same air… This wasn’t something to be shared. This they were selfish with. This was their secret. This side of their relationship was all back-alley kisses and hands held under tables. Their cravings for affection were hidden in plain sight, and only a handful ever really knew.

“Spot!” Coyote’s voice shattered their quiet moment. Spot’s head snapped up, blue eyes narrowing angrily at the interruption.

“What do you say, Coyote?” his tone was harsh, and one hand unconsciously clenched into a fist at Rose’s waist. The girl cleared her throat and threw a pointed expression up at Spot. Placing both hands on his chest, she rose up on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“ _Play nice_.”

He rolled his eyes and squeezed her waist before stepping past her to speak to his second. “You got news for me, or you just flapping your jaw for the exercise?” One hand instinctively went to the cane at his hip as the taller boy loped over to them, pocketing his slingshot.

“Jack and two of his guys are headed this way.” The couple froze.

“Who’s with him?”

“Boots. And some other fella I don’t recognize. Must be new. Looks like they mean business though.”

Spot considered his options for a moment, idly toying with the top of his cane. “Alright, thanks Coyote. Go roll out the welcome mat for ‘em, will ya?” Once the other boy left, he turned back to Rose, taking her hands in his own. 

“You wanna stick around and say hi to your brother?” he teased. “Or do you have to start heading back to Medda’s?” He pressed a string of kisses to the backs of each of her hands.

“Unfortunately, I do. We have a rehearsal for the new number later, and its mandatory.” She sighed deeply, stepping closer to him and gazing up through her lashes flirtatiously. “Walk me across the bridge? We could take a stroll through that little park you like so much…” She trailed off, draping her arms around his shoulders and rising up onto her tiptoes to meet his lips for another kiss.

He chuckled against her lips. “I wish I could. But duty calls, gotta put the fear of God in this new kid your brother’s bringin’ along.” She tried to shove him away, playfully, but he caught her hands and pulled her in once more for another kiss, this one pulling a giggle from her as they parted. The sound made every inch of his body feel warm. “Coyote and Hitch can take you across. They’ll make sure no one messes with my girl.” Once again, their noses were nuzzled together, arms looped around each other’s bodies. She pouted into another kiss before relenting and stepping away.

“Fine. But you owe me a walk, Conlon. A nice, _long_ walk through that park.” Another quick koss before she joined the boys who would be escorting her home.”And play nice! Don’t scare this new boy too much.”

That famous smirk appeared once more. “I make no promises, Sullivan.”


End file.
